


the games (we) play

by merriell



Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-04-30 16:55:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14501442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merriell/pseuds/merriell
Summary: Richard and Cielo have been in an open relationship for years – something that Cielo did not actually approve of, but went along with to keep Rich around. Richard had lived most of his life leeching off other people for money and sex – he loves Cielo, but for him, this life simply isn’t enough. This seemed to go on until he met Henry, a newly-divorced father that seemed innocent enough to con, through his regular client, Sergei.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> thia told me to write this. this is an au.

Foot stepped on scattered paper as he found his way in, greeted by the familiar view of his lover with a laptop on his lap, half-lidded eyes; Cielo’s looking half-asleep like always, halfway to the dreamland while he held on stubbornly to the waking world. This was one of his favorite view of his lover’s life, an undisturbed beacon of calm at the center of his fast-changing world.

As soon as Richard had walked in, Cielo looked up from his writing and lit up at once. It was always amusing to go home after days of not coming home – his job forced him to stay outside sometimes – to see the boredom and silence that had clawed its way to their small, yet adequate flat, disappear as soon as he walked in.

With Cielo, he felt somehow needed, though his presence in this place was somehow sparse. It was the little moment that counted, the way excitement come inside a room when he was around.

“Are you well?” he asked as he assumed his position beside his Sky, already peeking over his shoulder to see what he was working on. While Richard’s career a continuous success of hopping from one man to another, no strings on his back, Cielo’s career an ever-evolving, continuously-struggling subject of putting aside his actual work for copywriting or shitty news articles. It’s been a while since Cielo had complained about the overbearing state of his lack of creativity. It seemed after a few months of doing it, he was more-or-less used to it.

Cielo put aside his laptop to kiss Richard’s cheek. “I’m good,” he answered with a little smile. “How’s your weekend?”

“Oh, it’s good. I ate a lot,” Richard answered shortly.

He honestly had no idea why Cielo kept asking that, as if Richard didn’t notice the little glint of his eyes if he had kept droning on about what had actually happened the whole weekend. The little glint of jealousy, of sadness, that never failed to be present every single time he came back with fading hickeys on his neck. It was stories to be expected when you were dating an almost-prostitute who spent his weekends earning money by accompanying rich men, and their relationship was open with no actual complaints, so he wasn’t really at fault here, thank you very much – but he knew better now than to answer that seriously.

“What are you writing?” He diverted the conversation at once.

Cielo shrugged. “Just ghost-writing for a dude from The Onion.”

“You’re writing for The Onion now?” he leaned in and started leaving small kisses on his lover’s neck.

“Hey, only one article,” Cielo chuckled as he tried to push Richard away.

Richard laughed. “My ghost reporter!” He pushed the laptop closed to further distract Cielo, kissing and biting his neck before he could ever protest – not that he would, Richard _knew_ how much he loved for his neck to be kissed like this. “My _lovely_ , my pretty ghost reporter,” he said as he left a mark on Cielo’s jaw.

Before long they were making out, Richard more than happy to oblige Cielo with a means to forget that just the night before he was staying at his client’s house, sucking his cock dry.

 

*

 

He has a lot of regular clients, but few were as friendly as Sergei Azarov –- and even fewer he actually trusted. It became at a point where he was the only one in Richard’s batch of clients who knew that Richard actually had a boyfriend, even meeting with Cielo a couple of times before when they were having lunch.

They sat across each other eating a late lunch, both of them wearing sunglasses, Sergei to avoid people from recognizing him and Richard himself to avoid his hangover from becoming much worse. He drank too much last night and found himself on Sergei’s door after being kicked out by Cielo. It had become such a common occurrence that most of the time Sergei waited until morning to ask anything.

“So, you fought over dishes,” he heard Sergei and his ever-so-disapproving tone said. “And got kicked out instead of apologizing.”

Richard picked at his tuna sandwich, already losing his appetite. “Hey, it didn’t seem _that_ stupid at that time.”

“Why not apologize?”

Sometimes he’s forgotten that the so-called domestic life was a foreign concept to a person like this rich friend of his. At the end, Richard only took a sip of his juice while running his hand through his hair.

“You know, it’s just that sometimes when you’re pissed at someone you love you’re unable to process through that in your brain and just ended up being very mean even though it does seem like it’s that simple to outsiders,” Richard added after Sergei just stared at him. “In a more important note, do you have any upcoming events? It’s too much of a pain to come home right now, and I really need new clients to pay for my rent this month.”

Sergei raised an eyebrow at his explanation, but only shrugged. “There’s this soirée coming up, but I think it’s mostly filled with young people and married folks. I literally just gave you money last week. That ran out already?”

“My anniversary is coming up. That fund goes to the ‘presents-for-Sky’ pile.”

“How very sweet. Have you considered giving him an apology for the anniversary?”

Richard threw a piece of fry at his friend as a reply.

 

*

 

_Where are you?_ 21.02

Richard stared at the text, the light of his screen illuminating his face. He could feel Sergei peeking from his shoulder, could basically feel the disapproving gaze he always had whenever he had fights with Cielo. He always had no idea why Sergei cared so much considering that the guy didn’t even know Cielo at all.

_i have a gig i’ll be back tomorrow don’t wait up_ 21.05

He typed it hurriedly. He was already shrugging off the message when his phone buzzed again.

_Oh. Ok._ 21.05

A glance was enough; the conversation was done. He knew that Cielo would probably send him something again, but right then he could put his lover behind on his mind. He pocketed his phone in his suit before shooting a look towards Sergei, who only shrugged.

It was easy to convince himself that his job did not bother Cielo at all. It was easier to pretend that it was _necessary_. He’d spent half of his life like this, jumping from a stranger’s house to another; it took him years to build his contacts alone. After getting kicked out of his father’s house – after his mother died – this was just a part of daily life: kissing people he did not care about, knowing that he’d never fall in love.

It was a game, of sort. Richard, used to living under a house that did not accept him, know to guard his true feelings from others. Only Cielo came close, as someone he knew from college, they met at the public library and hit it off. He was the first person who nursed Richard’s wound when his experience with a client turned sour. His feelings towards Cielo was sincere, not one of the games he’d play with his clients for money. Cielo knew that. They both knew that. And yet…

To say Richard did not treasure Cielo would not be accurate. To say that Richard did not want more was another matter entirely.

His mind walked away from this matter as soon as the car stopped. When he was working, he was sure to leave all his worries behind at the door. It was hard to seduce someone if he had left half of his mind elsewhere. Cielo would be okay. He would always be okay, and Richard had his game to play right now.

 

*

 

Expensive chatter swallowed the room, clinking of champagne and wine glasses as they made their way around the room. Richard loved this about Sergei: how easy for everyone to fall into his orbit by just a friendly smile, a touch of an arm, a tinkling of a gaze. Richard chuckled behind his second glass of champagne – he had his games and Sergei had his, and it was almost theatrical to find so many willingly bought into his friend’s show, attracted by his words and the way he held himself.

Everyone in this place was playing a game as much as Richard was. They were here for money, for fame, for power. It _excited_ him, to play game with others, because most of the time he wins.

His eyes spied for a target from Sergei’s side. He had introduced him as an acquaintance to other colleagues, slyly glossing over details by distracting others into shinier embellishments, the way Sergei liked to do. Watching him work was like watching a magician, Richard observed. With a sleight of hand, trickery of social manipulation arose without anyone even noticing.

Richard did. But he was also familiar with Sergei’s tricks. Anyone else would not know the difference.

He was trying to snatch another glass from the server when he saw a redheaded girl ran and almost bumped into him. She avoided him just in time, looking up – god, at 6’4”, he must’ve been like a giant to her – scowling at his direction like _he_ was the one at fault. Richard could feel the edge of his mouth twitch.

“I apologize about my daughter,” someone murmured lowly from his back.

Richard turned on his heel, already off with a smile when he was hit by a pair of bright blue eyes.

_Oh, hello_.

“It’s okay,” he smoothly stepped away. “She didn’t actually bump into me.” He quickly scanned the man in front of him: stylish suit, muscular arms, styled brown hair – oh he’s _perfect_.

The man smiled at him.

“Oh, hello, Henry,” he heard Sergei talk behind him. He turned to see Sergei glance between him and this man, like he was already sensing what was going on. He threw a quick smile at Sergei to sign that the suspicion was right.

The man—Henry—‘s smile stayed in place as he tilted his head slightly, greeting with a deadpan, subtly mocking tone: “Oh, hello, Sergei. This is your companion?”

Even more perfect. It seemed like the two already knew each other, which gained Richard an early start in this race. “Richard Milkovich,” he greeted with his usual, dumbly adorable smile. No one could resist. Even women who knew he was interested only in men always melted at the sight of that smile.

“Papa!” The girl exclaimed. “I’m hungry,” she tugged at the man’s sleeve.

“I’m afraid I have to bid _adieu_ ,” the man said in a very pronounced RP accent. “It’s very nice to meet you, Richard. Take care of Sergei well.” And with that, he walked away, holding hand with his daughter.

Once he took his leave, he turned to Sergei. “Who was that?”

Sergei looked mildly bothered. “Heinrich Patria. He’s under the Schwartz group. Newly divorced, used to be married with Frida Schwartz. I heard that they had a falling out, but kept their business relationship intact.” Richard was familiar with the name. He flirted with a Team Manager of that German weapons company before, even talked to Frida Schwartz previously in one of the cocktails party he attended. This was, nevertheless, the first time he’d seen of her husband… or rather, her ex-husband. “And _unreachable_ ,” Sergei added as he was lost in thought.

He raised an eyebrow. “Unreachable?”

“Didn’t work before,” Sergei shrugged.

“What? You _tried_ him before and _failed_?” Richard snorted loudly.

“Not exactly,” Sergei chuckled with the grace of a prince, as if Richard had not just insulted him right on his face. “I’m saying, others like you tried it before and failed.”

“Why?”

“Not sure.”

“This is the first time I’ve heard you not being sure about something,” Richard shot suspiciously.

Sergei shrugged.

There were little things in the world that truly interested Richard Milkovich. The word ‘unreachable’ only excite him more. He stared at that wide back as he disappeared between the crowds, still holding his daughter’s hand. Unreachable was interesting; unreachable means there were layers under the surface that needed to be uncovered.

He turned to Sergei. “I think I found my target.”

Sergei pressed his lips together before scoffing softly. “Sure.”

 

*

 

As the night grew older, the crowd was thinning – many was already leaving, in preparing to leave, but Richard stalked his prey after convincing Sergei that _he likes challenge thank you very much_. His daughter had been hushed over by an assistant, in tune with what Richard was guessing was her bedtime, and Richard found the man slipping alone to the second floor, to the balcony, slyly following the footsteps.

He lingered at the bottom of the stairs for a couple of moments before walking up, a glass of wine in one hand and pure courage into another. He made his way to the balcony in faked drunken stupor, and found the older man leaning on the railings, lighting away a slim, black cigarette. His blue eyes looked up to meet Richard’s gaze.

“Oh, sorry,” Richard murmured as he put on an expression of a mock surprise, ready to retreat inside if not for ‘clumsy’ fingers slipping, sending the glass crashing to the floor.

Henry approached him at once, holding his arm quickly so he didn’t step on the shards. “Be careful,” he said at him, his voice gentle and soft. Richard put his hand on his forehead, closing his eyes, feeling the gaze on his skin. “Are you okay?”

Richard made sure he wasn’t quick to answer. He was quiet for a moment before answering: “Oh, it’s just the drink.” He could practically hear the vulnerability in his voice.

The smile on Henry’s face was back again; gentle, comforting, but slightly faked, like he was shouldering something that was invisible. “I think you need the clean air. It’s too crowded inside,” and with that, the shorter man led him to the edge of the balcony, where they were greeted by the scattered stars and cold night air.

“We didn’t talk before,” he leaned against the railings. Even if he wasn’t actually drunk, he always enjoyed night air more than the air inside: filled of expensive cologne and fakeness dripping from every corner. “Your daughter is very cute. I’m guessing she has it from you?”

Beside him: a snort. It was obvious from his meeting with Frida Schwartz that their daughter did not inherited anything past that beautiful green eyes in Henry’s eyes, but it seemed like a dumb thing to say by a drunk person. “Actually, no, she’s her mother’s mirror image. But it’s good that you think she resemble me enough for you to say that.”

There was a little sadness in his eyes when he said this – like talking about his ex-wife really hurted him. But this was the weakness: the clink in the armor, where Richard’s supposed to attack on. _Sadness_. Appealing to sadness was easy. Sad people are vulnerable, easy to lead on, easy to play.

“I heard she divorced you,” Richard kept his gaze fixed as he asked this. His voice was as gentle.

“That she did.”

“You two seemed like a beautiful couple. You know, when you see people who are so in love and they looked so happy, so suitable, it’s very hard to look at your future and see your own happiness. If their love doesn’t work, how would our does?”

A chuckle. “I agree.”

“My father was a drunk. He hit my mother often and – and – thanks to him I have a hard time believing in love.”

A silence seeped in, but not an uncomfortable one, because he saw those _stupidly beautiful_ green eyes stare at him. His lips parted slightly, as if to say something.

What he said wasn’t faked, wasn’t partly true. He saw love as something necessary in his life because that was what he wanted: security of another partner, of coming home into a warm bed, a pair of eyes that truly loved him. But he also knew love fades. He knew that love’s something you have to win, something you cannot give in completely.

“You shouldn’t,” he heard Henry finally say. His arm was on Richard’s shoulder now, voice excruciatingly gentle, and Richard couldn’t believe how easily Henry had visibly get his guard down. “My ex-wife and I… we’re… not a perfect example of ‘love’. I loved her. She never does. Our marriage was a necessity. It only seemed more from outside perspective.” The man’s hand is on his shoulder now, patting it. “I think to give up just because how other people’s love has failed is something unfortunate.”

Richard smiled, in victory in his chest, but looking sincere in his lips. “Ah. Thank—,“ he feigned a hiccup, “thank you.”

Henry was a romantic. This had turned into an even more perfect occasion.

 

*

 

The funny thing about playing his game was that people thought that they had found him first when it was the other way around. Once he had identified his target, he researched schedules, researched places, until he found a fitting, suitable plan for his little play. A setting, perhaps, a place for one to duel before entrapping the prey perfectly to a pre-dug hole.

Today it was a café downtown, serving wonderful teatime sweets and one of the most delicious jams Richard had ever had the privilege of tasting, all thanks to his research. It was two weeks after the soirée, and he had already gone home and apologized to Cielo. He still needed more money for rent, though, and purchasing scone in this place certainly wasn’t the solution for this (though he had slept with Sergei again since that night, which earned him more money in preparation).

He was on his second cup of hazelnut latte, already sure that maybe Henry had bailed out of his usual schedule that day when he felt somebody clasp his shoulder. He turned to see Henry, still wearing an expensive cashmere coat and a scarf on his neck, greeting him with a small smile.

“Hey!”

“Hey,” Henry said as he slid down to the seat across of him. “I’ve never seen you here before.”

“Sergei recommended it to me and I’ve fallen in love with the scones, it’s so good,” he said as he maintained the charming smile that he imitated from said friends-with-benefit.

Henry chuckled. “I was the one who recommended this place to him. I’m glad you approved.”

And, before they went to an awkward silence, Richard started going through his readied questions in his brain – something he’d already mulled over in his notebooks and even asked to Cielo, who listened attentively and advised him over their Chinese takeout dinner – as quickly as he could: “How is your daughter? Is she well?”

Henry’s face lit up at once. “Oh, she’s great. She has piano recital this weekend, she’s at practice right now.”

“Oh! Piano recital?”

“Yes!”

It was very cute to see how much that face lit up from where he was sitting. It seemed like the guy really loved his daughter. Richard had to remind himself that he asked that question for a reason – he already knew that the girl, Alana, had piano recital, of course, he also did extensive research of her before – and he should probably shoot his shot before the conversation left the topic behind.

But, before he could say anything, Henry had asked: “Are you free? On Sunday? I would like you to come to the recital if you can. It’s free, of course, it’s just that I used to go with Frida, but Frida had plans this weekend…”

Richard set his face to a surprised expression before slowly changing it to a soft smile, “Of course. I would be humbled.”

Game on.

 

*

 

The lights of his flat were already off when he went home. Richard walked in and quietly closed the door behind him. There was a lump on the bed, signaling that his lover had probably gone off to sleep without him.

His conversation with Henry had been a long one – they talked about many things, Richard’s job (he lied about this, of course, he couldn’t say he was an almost-prostitute), the upcoming recital, even about history and politics – and it took them a call from Alana to interrupt their conversation. At the end, Henry left first, even had the humility to pay for Richard’s latte.

He slowly slid himself to bed, feeling Cielo’s body warmth at once. Sleepily, his lover opened his eyes and smiled slightly at him, pulling him into a hug at once.

“How was it?”

“Oh, I got a date.”

“When?”

“This weekend. Sunday.”

He felt Cielo’s body tensed at once. Then, slowly, the brunet pulled away with a small “Oh,” leaving only a ghost of warmth where his arms had been touching Richard’s skin. He turned his body away. Richard stared at him confusedly, not sure where the sudden coldness had come from.

Then it realized.

Shit, he’s an idiot. Sunday’s _their_ Anniversary.

He could feel a fight incoming, but Cielo didn’t say anything. His breathing slowed as he was lulled back to sleep, leaving Richard with his dilemma, staring at Cielo’s back, unsure of what to do.


	2. Chapter 2

When he awoken, there was no one beside him.

This was not an unusual sight for a weekday – Cielo had courses to go, family to visit – but usually he at least would’ve woken him up for a quick sleepy kiss, if not some morning affection. Richard would wake up with a simple breakfast, even if it was only toasted bread in the microwave of the previous night’s leftovers that they didn’t get to devour.

This day, the counter was empty and cold. Richard sighed as he poured hot water over his instant coffee, leaning on the counter while pinching the bridge of his nose. Sure, he fucked up. But it wasn’t a big deal – they could do the anniversary dinner a day before or the day after.

He knew that Cielo was a romantic. (Richard himself wasn’t.) The kind who appreciated long conversations, domestic behavior, kisses on his cheek and cuddling until morning. These were conditions, conditions that enable him to be able to work and get money as always. These days, as he was preparing to lure a new client, of course, it was a little hard to keep up with these small affections, but he always made it up at the end.

After the coffee was mixed properly, he turned back to the wall where he kept the diagram about Heinrich Patria, detailing his schedules, contacts he was close with; it was intricate, mimicking investigative walls of procedural shows, something that Richard always took pride in. He saw Cielo’s writings in one of the Post-it notes and could feel his stomach sinking.

Cielo would be okay. He _knew_ that.

He crossed the piano recital from the little schedule, unable to shoo the frown from his face still.

 

*

 

The gentleman picked him up in a luxurious car; if he wasn’t used to this treatment by Sergei, he would’ve felt inadequate. To his surprise, though, he had not used a driver – Henry rolled down the window and smiled his usual smile (the one that did not reach his eyes) as he greeted him. Richard could see the flick of the gaze to the not-so-great outer part of his flat, but those green eyes glossed over as quickly as it darted.

“Hello,” he said.

“Afternoon,” Richard mock-curtsied. “Where’s Alana?”

“Already there from an hour ago. They had last-minute rehearsals. The recital isn’t for another hour—want to grab something to eat?”

“Fast food? Of course.”

He got in shotgun, quickly greeted by the change of temperature. He shot a quick smile at Henry, who started the car at once, leading them to the more crowded part of the street. The car smelled like an expensive cologne and quite oddly, milk soap, a smell that comforted him more than anything.

From his research, he knew Heinrich Patria was a family man. Though he worked excessively, which was how he had climbed the ladder of connections into marrying the heir of the Schwartz company – though he came from a rich family himself, it wasn’t like he was rich enough to warrant an arranged marriage – he knew from his public Instagram and socialite news sites that the guy was obsessed with accompanying his daughter everywhere. The scent suited him.

He felt something touch his cheek. Henry was glancing at him carefully, a chuckle fresh upon his lips. “Look, sorry to touch you like that but you had something on your face,” he flicked his finger and showed it to him, showing a smudge of ink that Richard guessed was from when he was trying to leave a note to Cielo earlier. “You’re very clumsy you know?” he remarked as he turned his attention back to the street.

“Sorry…” Richard was already starting out of habit while Henry just laughed as an answer.

The soft sound of music from the car’s music player filled in at the silence as he pulled up at a parking spot. They got off in front of a small sandwich store. It definitely wasn’t fast food, but Richard couldn’t protest after binging Maccy D’s for the last few days as Cielo busied himself and deflected anything Richard gave him with a small ‘uh huh’s.

They both got off and made their way to the store. It was one of the up-and-rising stores started by young adults with cool neon on the walls, and Richard found his eyes darting to the rainbow bagel on the display. It seemed like Henry caught the stare and chuckled, tapping the glass when he got the worker’s attention, while he himself ordered a chicken sandwich.

Richard chose the utmost corner of the store to sit in, Henry settling down in front of him with a smile, putting down their food and drinks between them. The rainbow bagel looked like it was going to give him toothache and diabetes, but he _loved_ the sight. He always loved sweet things – chocolate most of all. Growing up this was a privilege to him, so it was something he consumed regularly to make up for his childhood.

“I’m embarrassed,” he remarked as he pinched a part of the bagel and put it into his mouth.

“Don’t worry,” Henry gave him a small chuckle. “I actually enjoy pastries and sweets, you know? In fact, I was planning to open a bakery last year.”

“Oh, what happened?” Richard asked curiously. Weirdly, this was one of the information that he was unfamiliar of. It did not seem uncharacteristic for one like Henry to want to open a new business, the problem was the theme of the store. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“The business deal just fell out. Can I try?”

Richard raised his eyebrow. The guy’s basically asking for traps. He didn’t protest. Richard pulled away a piece of the bagel and fed Henry it. Before he could, though, Henry’s fingers darted to steady his wrist, accidentally forcing his hand to linger on those lips.

As if not realizing that, Henry ate from his fingers effortlessly. “Oh, that’s delicious,” he murmured before letting go of Richard’s wrist, leaving a little cream on the tip of Richard’s fingers and the corner of his lips.

Absent-mindedly, Richard pulled his hand back and licked the cream on his fingers. “I know, right?” He watched as Henry put his tongue out to lick the cream that was on the corner of his mouth.

Richard found himself gulping.

He quietly cursed himself for doing that. C’mon. This guy…

Maybe Sergei’s right. There was something off here.

Yet, the guy grinned a sheepish smile as he seemed like he did not realize, or at the very least did not care, about what just happened. He picked up his sandwich and started eating, gulping it after chewing before starting to talk about today’s news.

After the early dinner, they walked side by side to the recital venue as it was only a 5 minutes’ walk away from the sandwich store, joking around as they did, Richard’s still slurping the latte that he didn’t finish. It was at this moment that he knew to play around instead of just letting the conversation led its way.

“This is sweet,” he muttered, “I haven’t been into a piano recital before.”

“And it’s going to be bloody extraordinary, trust me,” Henry replied effortlessly. “Even if it isn’t and my daughter turns out to be a shit player – which she’s not, thank you very much – you have me to accompany you if you get bored.”

Ah, there it was. Richard shot him a quick smile – one that could be translated as a shy one – before saying, “I don’t think it’ll be boring with you around.”

The steps halted. Richard was one step ahead; he turned to Henry to see him staring at him, a little dazed, and for a second Richard felt a slight pity for the guy. He was lonely, Richard gathered, why would a newly-divorced man asked a stranger that he just knew to his daughter’s piano recital? Richard knew he had picked at the right spot.

The smile that appeared in Henry’s face was gentle. For once, it reached his eyes. And to his surprise, something in Richard’s stomach moved slightly.

Jesus, those green eyes are really fucking _wicked,_ isn’t it? He almost wished he had one, it’d make everything far easier.

 

*

 

The recital had been extraordinary. Alana’s playing was absolutely wonderful.

She slept at the back of the car as Henry drove wordlessly back to Richard’s place, and Richard found himself glancing at the back. It was really odd to see someone so little to be able to play so well. She seemed young – barely eleven, Richard guessed – but according to Henry, she’s been playing for half of her life, something that was taught by her grandfather.

Richard found himself slightly disappointed as they stopped in front of his flat. He wasn’t expecting to be brought to Henry’s place at once, of course, he knew he had to stroke a few places to be able to do that, but he had such a good time that it was disappointing to find that the night was ending.

Henry was different from Sergei. He was funny but never condescending, something he appreciated, which was how Sergei used to be until Richard knew him better, then he started joking like he was a fellow colleague or nag him about Cielo, or say something so arrogant to the point that Richard would rather suck his dick than hear him talk. It’s a little bit relieving to have someone like this that did not ask nor know too much about his life behind all the glamour.

“Ah, we’re here,” Henry remarked as he turned the engine off. He turned Richard with that same gentle smile as previously.

Richard returned the smile. “I had a good time.”

“Me too.”

They stared for each other for a moment in a mutual silence before Richard scoffed loudly. “You haven’t unlocked the keys, Henry,” he reminded.

The guy seemed taken aback. Flustered, he fumbled with the car keys and opened it. He laughed at his own clumsiness. “Sorry,” he muttered.

“I almost thought you don’t want me to leave,” Richard teased lowly.

“Maybe I don’t.”

The reply had been so sudden and sure that it took Richard out of his composure. He wasn’t expecting _that_ this early.

“Oh.” He let out that sound. He then proceeded to mentally hit himself in the head. What the fuck, Richard. “You can just ask.”

Henry turned to him, pulled his hand and pressed a soft, chaste kiss on Richard’s cheek. His voice was barely a whisper when he replied, “Maybe next time when I don’t have a lady on the backseat.”

“Understandable,” Richard retorted. “I’ll take my leave. You have a lady that needs a proper bed.”

And with that, he got off the car, stood on the pavement as he watched the car drove away. He could still feel the warmth on his cheek where the lips had been pressed. He swiped at it and struggled for his keys.

*

 

His note was left unread, pressed on the fridge, even the next morning. Cielo did not come home that night and did not answer the texts and calls Richard had sent him over night. Richard sighed as he woke up with no replies. Richard sighed as he made eggs and toast for himself.

Usually he would’ve been as pissed. He was starting to worry, yet there was still no reply from Cielo. But he knew that the whole problem was his fault. He knew he probably had to check to Spring’s house. Cielo always go there whenever the fighting turned too sour for him, ended up binging shows in his sister’s couch and sleeping there.

He was eating poached eggs when his phone buzzed. Full of hope, his hand quickly reached over the other side of the table and took it, expecting Cielo to reply. He was surprised to find that it was Henry who had sent him a text.

_Are you free?_ 08.24

_I need a friend._ 08.24

Richard made sure to wait a couple of minutes before replying. Not too quick to be desperate, but also not too long to indicate he was still sleeping at this hour. He was halfway through his toast when he used his free hand to muster a reply, a smirk plastered on his face:

_Sure. Where?_ 08.41

Henry sent him a location after that. Richard Googled it like a normal person, and found that it was a custom suit store a few blocks from here. Interesting.

 

*

After showering and changing into something else more presentable—a light green suit, a few buttons undone and over that a dark green blazer --  Richard made his way to the store. He found Henry already waiting on the front, leaning on the car he saw last night, a cigarette on his lips, clicking away at his phone.

“Sorry it took long. I had to walk,” was his greeting that morning.

Henry pushed himself away from his car with a little smile. “No worries,” he pocketed his phone inside his coat. “C’mon, aren’t you cold?” he said as he grabbed Richard’s by the arm, inviting him inside the store quickly.

The store smelled like musk and bergamot, something that Richard appreciated. Stores like this never welcomed him, but things were always different when he had a fling around, as they were usually rich enough to be able to purchase the content of the store – and being beside Henry, who greeted the shop assistant at once with a warm smile, like he belonged in this place, was something else entirely. He let his gaze stroke the entirety of the store, almost in longing. He always loved suits. It made men back straighten, it made anyone look even more attractive, at the very least slightly more.

“What are you looking to buy?” the shop assistant asked Henry.

“A present. But I have my friend to help me choose here.”

Richard noticed that Henry was referring to him. Politely, the shop assistant bowed and kept his space from them, letting them browse around. He waited for Henry to say anything as he ran his fingers through the fabric of the suit near him. Ugh. Much better than the ones he had.

“I need a tie. My father in law’s birthday is soon, but I really have no idea what to give him. Tie seemed like the safest bet. I want to give him Mont Blanc pens, but I already gave him last year. So, tie. I need a second opinion…”

He snorted. How very ordinary. “Of course. Do you have a picture of him?”

They ended up going through the store’s collection quickly, until they have a few of the strongest candidates. Richard stared at the three ties in front of him while he stroked his chin.

“So?” Henry asked.

“You’re still in contact with your ex-father in law?”

A laugh. “Of course. As you might have heard, Frida and I are still friends. We are also still business partners. And he’s still my boss. And the guy loves me. What can I say?”

At the end, Richard eliminated one of the ties and picked up the two last ties. He turned to Henry and pressed each into his chest. He felt the intense stare in his skin but dismissed it. “What kind of person is your father in law?” he asked softly, lowering his voice just in case the shop assistant was listening in.

“He’s hard outside but soft inside. Like a candy,” Henry replied with a chuckle. That close, Richard noticed that he has fuzzy chin, like he had missed his shave that morning. “People are very intimidated him, and sometimes it bothers him. He knows he’s the owner of a weapons’ company, but even the owner of that kind of company is just a guy who really loves dad jokes and his wife’s cooking.”

“Everyone needs love,” Richard replied as he pulled away.

“I agree.”

They stared for a moment. It seemed like forever. Then Richard lifted one of the ties and said, “This one. The other one fits you and your skin tone, though,” he said with a little laugh. “And—“ he leaned over to behind Henry, to touch a dark blue suit behind Henry.

A beat.

_Gotcha_. In victory, he could see the way Henry’s breath hitch on his throat when he does that. At 6’4”, he was several inches taller than him, so he was looking down, in full view of Henry’s eyes. With his other hand, he pushed Henry to turn.

“—would be perfect with this suit, don’t you think?”

There was a quick silence, but Richard knew he had hit a spot. Henry didn’t turn to meet his eyes—as he always did whenever they were talking—when he said, “I’ll have to see first.”

“Want to try?” he said, his voice beside Henry’s ear.

A scoff. “Sure, let’s try.”

 

*

 

Sure, they said that.

But as they both made their way to the fitting room, they both knew that the suit wasn’t the centerpiece of this incident. As soon as the curtains were closed, Richard felt his hand getting pulled inside, and was greeted with a deep kiss.

The cold surface of the mirror met his back as he was pushed into it by the shorter man. The kiss wasn’t sloppy – there was something _meticulous_ about it, which Richard liked – it wasn’t out of character, but it was a happy surprise. Henry paid attention to the slight hum on his throat as their tongue met, knowing that he liked it.

When he pulled away, Richard tug him by his tie closer and licked the spit that dripped from the corner of Henry’s mouth. Those green eyes practically sparkled as he did that.

Easily, he flipped their position, undoing buttons, leaving kisses at Henry’s jaw and neck, receiving soft appreciative moans from him. He slid his leg between Henry’s legs and pressed it against the other’s crotch. He had several guesses about the nature of this man – one of it influenced by the authoritative dominance of Frida Schwartz – as he exposed his neck for more kisses, Richard bit down at the place where his neck and shoulder met. He was welcomed with a loud moan, Henry’s hip bucking to press his crotch against Richard’s thigh.

_Ah, there’s his answer_.

Richard gave Henry’s cock a little squeeze through the fabric before he knelt down and unbutton his trousers. He was hard already, the cock pressing on the fabric before Richard finally freed it. He let out a little chuckle as he finally got his full view of it. He opened his to lick his own lips when suddenly he felt a thumb pressing on his lips.

He had been distracted by the cock so much that he didn’t realize Henry was staring at him. There was something cold in his eyes, so unfamiliar to his usual demeanor, as he pressed his thumb inside. Richard gulped slightly, unable to take his eyes away from Henry as he felt his other fingers on his chin, stroking it. His tongue moves to lick the thumb, feeling his own cock twitching inside his trousers.

Maybe the answer he had was wrong – maybe he judged wrong –

But then the gaze softened and he murmured, “You’re beautiful, you know?”

Okay, perhaps not wrong.

Richard smirked at that, hand circling around Henry’s cock and felt the hand pull away with a soft gasp. He jerked it a couple of times, letting his spit fell on the length before finally bringing it to his mouth. It wasn’t as thick as Sergei but it was long, like he could easily fill Richard’s throat with a push.

Sloppily, he sucks the head of the cock, attentive to the moans, the buck of the hips – he pressed at the thighs to prevent his throat from being abused (though _that_ was a delicious thought, that wasn’t the goal right now) before slowly, torturously, putting the whole length inside his mouth. He could feel the throat tightening in protest, but he was used to doing it that he managed it without choking.

Skillful hands stroked down, not forgetting to put some attention on the balls before bobbing his head up and down the length, making sure to make he was tight all around it. Richard couldn’t help but imagine the cock inside him, all of the length shoved inside him, fucking his insides raw. He disciplined his thoughts – he couldn’t get fully hard then, he had another thing to do.

He pulled out and heard how fast Henry whined when he realized that was happening, but he wasn’t done yet; he run his tongue through the foreskin, teasing it until he felt Henry struggling not to jerk his hips to his touch.

“Pretty noises,” he murmured against the cock before he took it all in his mouth again. He felt those bony fingers ran through his hair and thought he was going to push him deeper, but it took him by surprise when it pulled him by the hair before slamming in, catching him off guard until he choked a little, feeling Henry’s precum on his throat.

Moans became more erratic awhile later – he was close, Richard noticed – without warning, he squeezed the balls slightly and lapped against the length while he pushed the cock deeper, feeling the warmth of the cock inside his throat. He felt his throat whined in protest, his eyes watering… then with a loud moan, Henry emptied himself on Richard’s throat, Richard gladly slurping at the cum, not wasting any drop.

He pulled away and was wiping his mouth when the hands were back again, pulling him by his arm for a kiss. He got lost inside the kiss for a moment before the twitch in his cock snapped him back to reality. No, no – wait, back to the game.

He pulled away, biting Henry’s bottom lip slightly before he did. He smirked at the disheveled, dazed after-orgasm look on Henry’s face, sensing their half-hard cocks in respective trousers.

“Not here,” he whispered. “Pay for the things first, bring me to your place, and I’ll fuck your brains out.”

Henry smiled. “Okay,” he muttered, before he pulled up his pants and buttoned it, while Richard watched his arse appreciatively from the mirror.

They paid in feigned atmosphere, though from the corner of the shop keeper’s face he should already smell the raw scent of sex from the air around them. But the shop keeper said nothing, smiled as if nothing happened. Richard wondered if it happened often.

He caught a glance of extra bills towards the shop assistant being given by Henry before he looked away.

Maybe often.

Henry practically pulled him to his car the next moment. He threw his shopping bag at the backseat as Richard sat down shotgun.

“My place?”

There was that again, the smile, the gentle voice – Richard couldn’t hear it without cringing. He felt bad. Somehow.

“Your place,” he agreed.

It was going to be an interesting night.


	3. Chapter 3

The road had been awhile to the point that the hard-on was flaccid already – to no surprise – but arousing it again would be a piece of cake. They were quiet the entire drive, moving from North to the South where the land was much, much more expensive, until the car glided in front of a mansion with an almost art deco motif, from where Richard was sitting, probably four floors in height.

For someone so warm like Henry, the outside of the house had been so cold and foreign that it almost made Richard shiver. The house stood like tall bones, looking over the guests coldly, cameras spying on every corner Richard glanced.

The car stopped in front of the entrance. Henry put a hand above his thigh and told him, “Okay, Rich, we’re here.”

“I can see that. The house doesn’t suit you, though.”

“This is my ex-wife’s house. I have a personal flat, but this is closer.”

Richard raised an eyebrow. Maybe he was right. It seemed like, despite being divorced completely, Frida Schwartz still has her husband wrapped in her fingers. Not only that it seemed like the custody battle ran was almost non-existent – it seemed like it was universally agreed for both to take care of Alana, or rather _he_ take care of Alana, considering Richard had never seen her with Frida before – he still came to her house like they were still married, almost comfortable with it. He really wondered why they even divorced at all at the first place.

“Is this okay?” He asked as he got off, glancing at the cameras that still watched them closely.

Henry, who was walking ahead of him to the door, turned to him with a slight confusion in his eyes before realizing. “Oh, of course. I sleep here all the time. My office is still up there.”

He followed the shorter male inside, feeling the warmth greeted his already-chilling cheekbones. The interior was spotless and expensive, like something out of a catalog, something that was only a concept for people like Richard. He thought that he was leading him to a guest bedroom, but he was surprised when he was ushered to a small office in the second floor, clean and organized, devoid of personality whatsoever.

“Yours?” Richard asked as he slowly made his way to the table, where a lone bottle of wine was put away. He lifted it up and read the label. _Château Margaux_ 1787\. How much did this cost? He’d seen it before when he was browsing catalogues to impress Sergei. More than five years of rent, that was for sure. Probably more than he ever needed in one year (okay, a lie – you don’t know how easily he could go through his money if he was feeling like it).

Henry smiled and locked the door behind them before approaching Richard. He snatched the bottle away from Richard’s fingers and put it beside them, invading Richard’s orbit at once. “A present from a friend,” he muttered near Richard’s mouth. His eyes glanced down to Richard’s lips before meeting his eyes again, full of lust. “Now, let’s not get distracted – you did say you’ll fuck my brains out.”

Richard chuckled as he stared the man in front of him. In front of him, he noticed how bright his eyes were. His hair was styled but a strand fell on his slightly sweaty forehead. He smelled like soap and something woody that Richard can’t pin down. “Why the office?” he asked as he grabbed Henry’s ass. He has a tight one that felt perfect inside Richard’s palm.

Henry only smiled as he slowly pulled away, leaving a quick, chaste kiss on Richard’s lips. He moved to the other side of the table and pulled open his drawer, where he pulled out a pack of condom and lube. “I always have this ready here, it seemed like a good choice.” He shrugged.

“And none in the bedroom?”

“There’s certainly something in the bedroom, but don’t you want to see me bent over this table?” Henry asked back, dramatically leaning into the table as he said so, stroking the surface with both of his hands.

Richard stared at his face, his gaze unmoving – he could see it in his mind: Henry writhing and moaning helplessly, flesh reddening as his skin kissed the table, the wet sound of flesh on flesh filling the clean room with sex. His cock inside that tight arse. Richard could feel himself hardening at the thought. It really _was_ an exciting thought, was it?

He pulled Henry by his tie and yanked at it, forcing the shorter man to get on the table as he pulled him into a deep, sloppy kiss.

“You are pretty forward,” he told him when he pulled away.

There was that again: that smooth smile. “Only when that someone is as beautiful as you.”

And that was it; Richard pulled him again until his feet are hanging off the table, shoved him until his back meets the table. He stared at the disheveled look in Henry’s face, his brown curls falling to his eyes. He was disgustingly beautiful. Unconsciously, Richard stroked Henry’s cheek, watched at his Adam apple’s moved as he gulped down in anticipation.

“You’re a pretty one, you know,” Richard muttered softly.

Henry only smiled, fingers stroking the back of Richard’s hand almost absent-mindedly while his other hand reached for the condom, pushing it into Richard’s palm. He could only chuckle at the gesture.

He prepared himself – ripped the condom open, put on the lube, which was cherry flavored, which he found amusing – while Henry made a work on Richard’s clothes, undoing the buttons with his left hand. The warmth of the office felt cool against his slightly sweaty skin, but Henry’s tongue felt hot against it, leaving marks and hickeys over his collarbone.

Richard’s hand reached to pull at those brown curls, forcing him to pull away from the previous activity. Trails of spit drop from his reddening lips, breath shallow as Henry chuckled at the gesture. Ah, he loved a good hair pull, Richard noted.

He shoved him back to the table, hands making quick work of Henry’s trousers. He was half-hard already. He could work with that. Leaving Henry’s shirt alone, he flipped around the other male and went on his knees, already knowing a rough idea what to do.

He didn’t say anything as he pushed his finger, still slick with lube, inside the Henry’s hole. Tight. Perfect. He felt the body in front of him jerk in surprise, though from the moan he knew he was appreciating it. When he pulled away, he heard a soft whine.

Chuckling, Richard started putting his tongue in. Something fell from the table at once, rolling in the floor after a huge ‘thud’. He pushed Henry’s hips to the table so it didn’t jerk around too much as he put work into his tongue, obscenely licking the walls inside. As if that wasn’t enough, the fingers came back – and that was enough to make the previously muffled moans became louder, uncontrollable, more erotic.

Richard loved watching people undone under him.

“ _No_ ,” Henry gasped softly when he finally pulled away. His erection was pressing against the edge of the table, pathetically already pre-ejaculating. Richard wiped the spit away from the corner of his lips before pushing inside without warning, feeling the walls of muscle around his cock twitching and tightening with a loud moan.

Henry was gripping at the edge of the other side of the table, his pale skin flushed a rosy pink, contrast again his white knuckles. He glanced behind at Richard, who caught his eyes at once. He felt his dick hardened even more when he saw _vulnerability_ on those eyes, so sudden that Richard was pretty sure his heart just skipped a beat.

Holy fucking shit, this guy is the _worst_.

Annoyed to be caught off guard, he clawed at Henry’s hips and shoved inside to the deepest part of him, forcing the shorter man to take his whole length at once.

He fucked Henry on the table, the rhythm rough and fast, putting his back into it. His current mate jerked at every touch, flesh meeting flesh with wet, loud sounds that filled the entire room. Moans fell apart from the lips while Richard grunted, cause the bastard’s so fucking tight Richard could feel the room around him spinning.

A thrust that grazed against a particular piece of muscle made Henry whine loudly, hips bucking to make Richard’s cock hit it again. Richard had the nerve to chuckle as he deliberately missed the spot, earning even more whines from Henry.

“R—Rich,” Henry moaned against the table’s surface.

“Pretty noises,” Richard hummed, and hit the spot at that moment.

The muscles around him – impossibly – tightened even more at the sensation, and Richard had to grab at Henry’s hair to prevent himself from accidentally cumming. _Fuck_. He could feel himself close to orgasm, but he wasn’t going to lose from this guy. Not after that vulnerable eyes. He hadn’t top for a while as Sergei was the only one he’s had sex with the entire two weeks, and this was his first tight ass for a while.

His other hand grabbed Henry’s cock and jerked it to his thrust.

With a loud scream that was only slightly muffled, Henry cummed, the thick white substance scattered on the side of the table and his thigh. Richard took a deep breath as he let go to the orgasm he’s been holding.

They both maintained their breath before Richard pulled out, staring at the mess in front of him, feeling slightly dizzy. Henry was leaning on the table, eyes in that dazed post-orgasm look. His suit was crumpled in many places. As soon as he felt Richard’s stare, though, he turned and smiled, again: reaching his eyes, and fuck, _fuck fuck fuck fuck that fucking eyes, Richard would like to rip it out, thank you very much_.

“Thank you, Richard,” he pulled Richard by his arm, steadying himself with the other, kissed Richard gently for a few seconds before pulling away. The kiss had been so effortless, so normal, like they were lovers, that Richard only gave in to it.

Richard could only stare as Henry reached for a tissue, already cleaning after their mess.

 

*

 

They were inside the kitchen after that, pretending like nothing else was going on. Richard leaned on the marble as Henry started cooking, the smell of spices quickly rising in the air. Turns out that the guy was an excellent cook with a fully-stocked pantry, and Richard’s always hungry after a good fuck. They joked around as Henry cooked, his target even showing him how to catch a potato in the air with a knife.

“I learned to cook to woo Frida, actually,” Henry said as he fussed over the stove. Richard listened intently while he sipped the white wine that Henry had poured him before he started cooking. (“Appetizers,” he stated.) “We were childhood friends, you know? So, one day during her period – we were in sixth form – I tried to cook her curry. I didn’t know how to cook and I fucked it up, it was far too sweet. She then said she would marry me if I could perfect the dish.”

“I’m guessing you did perfect the dish,” Richard put down his glass.

“I did. She was true to her words. She did marry me.” Henry smiled. “She said that she has never fell in love with anyone in her life and she doesn’t think she ever would, but a good curry that was only made for her is close to whatever love is supposed to be.”

Richard suddenly remembered home. Remembered the unsent text, the empty kitchen counters. He reached for his phone and checked. Cielo still had not replied, though the signals were full. Maybe he could check Spring’s place before he went home.

“What’s wrong?” Henry’s voice interrupted his thought.

“Nothing,” he lied as he pocketed the phone.

Henry served the dishes, even bothering to plate the dishes like it was in restaurant displays. They pulled out the islands chair and started eating, Henry’s hand resting on Richard’s leg while they talk. Richard glanced at it but didn’t comment, even putting his hand over it as he finished the fish and chips Henry cooked.

They abandoned the dirty dishes on the sink when they finished. Richard warily glanced around, in fear of one of the house staffs watching them, but the house seemed empty and abandoned. He didn’t know why he was tiptoeing considering the Schwartz couple was happily divorced. But there was something off about the house that no expensive interiors could light up. Henry laughed softly as he brought him to the cellar, where they made out, him pining Henry on the wood until they were out of breath.

They were tipsy, he noticed later as they almost knocked over a bottle of expensive wine. Henry pressed his lips against Richard’s forehead as they slid to the floor, laughing.

“Want one?” he asked when he caught Richard looking at one of the labels of the wine that was discarded on the floor.

Richard looked at him and said, “Sure.”

 

*

 

He came home with Henry’s driver as the guy excused himself due to some business matter. He stared at the bottle of wine in his lap as he pulled Henry’s coat closer around him. It was really easy, he realized, to be comfortable with Henry’s presence. He knew that this was nearing dangerous territory, but with just a few meetings he’d been given this expensive wine—fine, it wasn’t the one in his office, but it was still expensive as hell—and Henry had told him to keep the coat.

Only when he stepped away from the car that he realized that he had forgotten about his plans to visit Cielo in Spring’s place. As the night was growing old, at the end he only sighed and walked inside his flat.

To his surprise, the lights were on when he walked in. Feeling his heart started to race, he walked into the kitchen to find Cielo cooking in the kitchen. He smiled at his back as he approached him, putting his chin on his shoulder as he hugged the thin, lanky figure of his lover from behind. He realized that he really missed him.

“Watch out, I’m frying something,” Cielo pushed at him gently, but he didn’t move from his place.

“I miss you. I miss you so much,” he murmured to Cielo’s neck. “Were you at Spring’s place?”

“Yes. Did you buy a new coat?”

“No, someone lent it to me.”

At the end, Cielo turned off the stove and turned to him. Happily, Richard pecked his lips and stared at him fondly, Cielo’s hand running through the soft, expensive fabric of the coat as they kissed deeply. He was smiling as he pulled away, which meant he wasn’t mad anymore, which was a good thing. Richard had not apologized yet, he would do it later when things calmed even further.

“Just forget the food and come with me to bed. I want cuddles,” Richard whispered lowly as he ran his hand up and down on Cielo’s back.

Cielo, to his surprise, smiled and started taking off Richard’s coat. Then, as if something has electrocuted him, he stopped when the coat was opened, revealing his light green shirt under it, with the buttons at the upper part opened, revealing series of hickeys and bruises in his neck. Cielo stared at it for a moment, something in his eyes, before pushing Richard away.

“Cielo—“ he started.

“No.” Cielo retorted coldly. “I was angry because the anniversary – but I understood it was your job that you’ve been planning to do for a while and it makes sense for you to prioritize it. I know you know where I am. I waited for you to at least have the nerve to come get me. But _you don’t_. I tried to come back here expecting you to at least be sad. But this? No.”

“Sky, let me explain, I didn’t plan this.”

“You plan all of your moves. This is _your_ game and I’ve been watching it from the start. I know you plan all of this.” Richard tried to hold Cielo’s arm, but Cielo shoved it away, unexpectedly hard that Richard’s back hit the counter. “And I’m _sick_ , sick of this. I changed myself to suit you, every day. You think I enjoyed this? No. I just loved you so I closed my eyes, pretend that I don’t care about all those guys fucking you, fucking someone I love and you enjoying it because _how does Richard Milkovich even function without attention from multiple people_?”

The shove didn’t hurt. What Cielo said did. Richard stared at him with a scowl, a fight ready in his mouth.

“Don’t pretend like you didn’t know what you picked up when you did,” he pressed his pointer finger to Cielo’s chest, watched as his expression flinched at the words. “You already know what I am. I’ve exposed myself to you from the start. You walked through this, expecting, what, you can change me? That I will change for you? You already know. Don’t grab the knife and get surprised when it does cut you.”

“I was expecting you to _grow up_. Now I can see that it isn’t going to happen. You’re going to stay like this, being useless, convincing yourself that money is the only factor that you keep doing this when we both know better. You do this because you can’t survive having only one person in your life. You got to have multiple people, so that you can throw away one when they don’t fit you anymore.”

“You don’t fucking understand. Sky, I love you—“

“I don’t think even you believe that. You just _love_ the fact that I love you, so that you don’t feel useless and unloved in this world.”

“ _Sky_.”

“I’m leaving.”

Then Cielo stopped saying anything at all, wordlessly packing his things, while Richard watched silently from the kitchen. It happened so fast that he couldn’t say anything, because he knew that this was the end of the line. That it was enough. He watched as Cielo left, not even glancing back behind him as he did.

Richard was left alone in an empty flat, a cooked egg abandoned behind him. He slid down and sat on the floor, grabbing the wine Henry just gave him, slowly opened the cork with his bare hands until scratches filled his fingers and a few of his nails are broken.

Then he drank, drowning himself in the expensive liquor, grabbing at the coat around him like it was the only lifeline in the world: the smell of soap and the warmth of Henry’s smile at him.


	4. Chapter 4

Cielo James Chase treasured few things in his life.

He’d always been a family man, someone who was close to his sibling, someone who came home every holiday to kiss his mother’s cheek, talk with his father over eggnogs while the fireplace crackled. He had a normal family who loved him and checked his condition every weekend. Their presence in his life had never been overbearing nor bothersome.

Falling in love with someone like Richard Milkovich was not a part of his big plan in life.

As he stepped away from his – no, Richard’s – flat with his suitcase in his hand, he realized that this was the day that he had dreaded to come. He noticed that, while packing, most of his things weren’t there anymore. The flat was full of Richard’s things; every time they fought, he would move more and more of his things to Spring’s place, always forgetting to bring it back when he got home. Then all that was left was all in the suitcase in his hand.

He turned to the windows that oversaw the street. He was half-expecting Richard to glance over him, as he always did whenever Richard was picked up by his clients. Nothing. Only swaying curtains, only lit lights that peeked from the ratty curtains.

So, he left.

He met Richard during his study in the university. He was volunteering at the library late at night when he was suddenly creeped out by how alone he was. Several books fell, and there he met Richard, tipsy from drinking, asking to let him sleep for a while there while he tidied up. They were friends before they were lovers – it wasn’t until later, when Richard came to his flat with a black eye, split lip and bruises all over his arms and kissed him while Cielo nursed his wounds, that they decided they were in a relationship.

Cielo fell in love with the strange man who chuckled, who marveled and complimented his works, the strange man who looked vulnerable while he was half-asleep, of the man he spent late nights of sleeping with limbs tangled under the blanket.

Now he asked himself if he were only another game.

 

*

 

Spring was not picking up his calls. She had shifts as a waitress in some bar that Cielo just noticed that he didn’t knew the name of, but at least he knew that she won’t be checking her phone until it was late morning. At the end, he found himself inside a 24-hour coffee joint near the subway, his suitcase still beside him, staring at the article in front of him that was supposed to be done before 12 the next day.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he stared outside. Even the nightlife had already starting to die down. Occasionally, people would pass by, largely in groups of two, huddled over for warmth. Even the cashier-and-waiter that served him was half-asleep staring at the telly that was showing reruns of old sitcoms.

_Why is he here?_

He never realized it before that he didn’t have that many of close friends. Most of the contacts of his phone are acquaintances, people who he didn’t really know and who didn’t really know him either, or people from work, beside his family. No one beside Spring in his family knew about Richard, and even Spring had been nagging him to finally make a little intervention of Richard’s behavior.

_Just break up with him and leave, Sky, Jesus_.

Maybe he should’ve taken Spring’s advice.

He opened his phone and fingered the screen until he found Spring’s contact. Before he could, though, his eyes stopped, finger hovering over one contact name. He stayed silent for a second before finally deciding to compose a message to that man.

_Are you awake?_ 02.53

Cielo stared at the message for a second before sending it. Fuck it.

 

*

 

He woke up with the jolt of the coffee joint’s bell as it rang. He looked up while rubbing his eyes, realizing that his laptop had died because he forgotten to plug it in. Cielo yawned, covering his mouth as he realized that he knew the person that just walked into the joint, who just sat across of him without words, a worried look in his face.

“Are you okay?” The person asked. “Did he – hurt you? Is that why you left?”

And the tears he didn’t realize he’d been holding just fell down.

 

*

 

_one year ago –_

He was on his way home from meeting a literature magazine owner when Richard told him to come to the coffee joint near the subway. He complied, happy to be meeting Richard after he’d gone off in a ‘little’ trip to France with one of his rich clients that he had been working on for a little over a year now.

Cielo fixed the strap of his messenger bag as he crossed the street. He pushed the entrance of the coffee joint open. His eyes scanned the entire room for Richard, who as it turned out, was sitting near the windows with an older man, with bright blue eyes and styled hair. Uh-oh. He didn’t realize that the man Richard just went on a trip with was here as well.

Awkwardly, he walked over to the table and recognized the man as Sergei Azarov. He still remembered going over the files as Richard massaged his feet in return for missing his birthday. He had never met Richard’s client face to face before, because of course, Richard did not publish his relationship status to his clients in fear they became possessive of him. This was odd. This was weird. This gave Cielo anxiety.

“Rich,” he leaned to give Richard a kiss in the cheek and sat down beside him.

Richard laughed and put his arm around his waist as soon as he sat down – a possessive gesture that always made Cielo confused, considering they were both in an open relationship (not that Cielo act upon it. It was mostly Richard). “Sergei, this is the boyfriend I’ve been talking to you about! Sergei, Cielo. Cielo, Sergei. You can call him Sky.”

The man was staring at him. Cielo shot him a polite smile before lowering his eyes, feeling the man’s intense gaze on his skin, making him completely nervous.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Sky,” Sergei told him. “Richard hadn’t stopped talking about you after I managed to pry him about having a boyfriend. It was a little unexpected, you know? He didn’t seem like the commitment type.”

“I am _not_ the commitment type,” Richard snorted loudly. “Anyway, Sky, I’ve asked you to come here because Sergei has connections to a publishing company that wants someone to be a ghost-writer for a biography. I, of course, saw this as a chance for you.”

Surprised, Cielo finally lifted his eyes and met Sergei’s eyes right on. He seemed like a gentle man and definitely someone so different from Richard. His smile was charming. He looked like one of the men that looked like they walked out of books, walked out of tellys – he seemed like a prince.

They started talking about the book.

 

*

 

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

This was the fifth time Sergei had asked this as he sobbed his eyes out in Sergei’s car. His driver did not even glance behind as he just used Sergei’s arm as tissues. God, he felt embarrassed all of the sudden, considering that although he already knew the man from about more than a year and they talked a lot, he didn’t really know him. But he needed a place to sleep, and Sergei felt like the wisest choice.

After their first meeting, they maintained contacts independent of Richard – they even had lunch together sometimes to talk about business – and honestly, Cielo liked the man. He enjoyed his time with him. He found himself occasionally replying messages from Sergei who was making sure he was okay after his fights with Richard. (Apparently, Richard also ran his mouth about their private fights. Which Cielo was not comfortable with. Okay.)

Cielo had no idea how to play their games. He sensed it, of course. He wasn’t a player, he was only a watcher who oversees things from the sidelines. Sometimes, he pitied people that Richard had fooled, people that fell in love with Richard not knowing that that bastard’s heart basically encased with ice. Fuck, he used to feel special because he felt like he was the only one who knew, the special person in Richard's life who knew how his mind turned, who he spent his free time with.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, more to himself than to Sergei.

“It’s okay,” Sergei replied as he offered him tissues. “You need to rest. My guest room is empty. Are you sure he didn’t hurt you at all?”

Cielo wanted to reply that that was the wrong question to ask. Richard had never laid his hands on him. Cielo knew his story, of course: he had an abusive father who hated his guts, who beaten up his mother every time he got drunk, which seemed to be every night, and after his father found out he was gay, he kicked him out. Richard only maintained contact to his sister after that.

Richard wasn’t a physical person. The way Richard lashed out when he was angry was by words. Their fights were emotional yet it never escalated to physical wounds. But does that count as hurting? Wasn’t it his fault that he stayed all this time? Richard was right. He knew what he was getting in on; it was the base of their relationship, that Richard could still work.

“No, he didn’t. Thank you for your trouble. I’ll be gone in the morning. It’s just that my sister didn’t pick up her phone…”

“Look, Sky. It’s okay, okay? Breathe.”

 

*

 

He woke up in a strange bed. He did not wake up like this often, and he found himself disoriented, even though he knew exactly where he was at. The first thing he did was checkup his phones. Not even a text from Richard, though there were dozens of texts and calls from Spring, asking whether he was okay, asking where he was, telling him to call as soon as he got the texts.

His hands were going to press the button to dial Spring’s number when there was a knock on the door. An old man wearing a uniform informed him that breakfast would be ready in an hour and that his presence was requested, also bringing towel for him to shower. Flustered, Cielo nodded with rosy cheeks, fumbling as he accepted the towel.

As he showered, he was suddenly hit by worry about Richard. He was afraid he’d do something again. His lover – his ex-lover – was diagnosed with clinical depression when he was receiving help after the incident during college, but after a long period of no relapse, he would always ‘forgot’ to take his medications. He was afraid that this whole incident will trigger him.

He picked up his phone while he was wearing his clothes, and typed in a message to Richard –

_Are you okay?_

He stared at the screen for a while before finally sighing and putting it down, sending a message to Spring instead not to worry about him, that he will go to her place later.

 

*

 

The breakfast was lovely. Sergei seemed like he was deliberately avoiding the subject of Richard, only asking about his sleep before the conversation was railed about his career and the current news. Cielo ate most of the food served in his plate. It was so delicious and it differed so much from the cheap, what-you-got-on-your-fridge-is-what-you-eat breakfast that he always eats in his flat.

They sat across one another in the porch after, tea and coffee between them, Sergei quietly reading the newspaper while Cielo sat awkwardly there, closing his eyes. He wanted to talk to someone.

“I don’t actually agree with his lifestyle,” he finally said.

Sergei, as if he had been waiting for him to talk, started folding the newspaper he was holding and put it on the table. “But you went along with it because you loved him?”

“What I wanted is for him to stay,” Cielo answered. “And now I left.”

“And now you left,” Sergei repeated without judgement.

“I wanted him to stop. We have a lot of these arguments before. Sure, it wasn’t pretty. I knew… what I was going to get when I start dating him. It was okay for a while. No offense, Sergei. I know you’re one of his clients, but I can’t help but start loathing his work. I know he notices. I also noticed that he doesn’t bring it up unless I did, that as long as I don’t lift my voice, there will be no arguments – no fights.” Cielo dug his nails to his palm as he talked, noticing that it wasn’t sadness he felt in his chest, just anger. “It was stupid from the start, I know. I’ve never been – I wasn’t someone like Rich. I love having a family, I wanted someone who only loved me, who only focused on me. And falling in love with Rich does not get along with that. I really wondered why I did love him.”

“Love doesn’t care, does it?” Sergei asked as he reached over. Cielo stared at Sergei moved to gently pry his nails from his palm, preventing him from breaking the skin. “You deserved better, Sky.”

“I do deserve better,” Cielo murmured, lifting his eyes to meet Sergei’s.

He had always been an observer most of his life. From the start, he knew the stare of someone who was interested in him. Richard’s needs for him was a home to gone back to, for a comfort in his life, for someone to _love_ him after he was treated like a thing. He knew that. He also knew how Sergei’s gaze had fallen on him from the start, how weird it was for a client of his lover to maintain that much contact with him, even if it was only for business, and how peculiar it is for him make sure he was okay after his fights with Richard.

Cielo was no player of this game. But he also _wasn’t_ stupid. He can play. He just chose not to.

He stared at the man in front of him.

And he chosen to play a different game.

 

*

 

Richard did not know how long he’d been laying on the floor.

He ripped apart the intricate research work from the wall, hating that Cielo had written on parts of it. The wine was abandoned after it was emptied. His phone was on the kitchen island, been vibrating for a couple times in the past hours, which he was ignored.

He laid down beside the couch, the coat like a hug around him. He expected to cry, to be sad, but all he felt was anger at Cielo for leaving, anger at himself for not doing anything. He stared at the ceiling while his fingers pulsed in hurt after his stunt last night.

It seemed like forever.

He only got up when somebody was banging on his door. He fixed the way the coat hung on his body before walking to the front door, that he realized wasn’t locked after Cielo left – and that Cielo’s keys to his flat was hanging on the organizer near the door. Left behind. He felt his heart sink at that, realizing how final the breakup had been.

He pulled the door open, and almost got a heart attack.

Henry stared at him with furrowed brows, a concerned look on his face. His gaze scanned from Richard’s head to his feet, before darting to his fingers. The older man grabbed it and stared at him. “I’ve been calling you for hours,” he said – and Richard was half expecting him to be angry, but all he sounded was worried, all he sounded was gentle. “What happened? Were you robbed? What happened to your hand?”

Richard was stunned. He didn’t know what to do. What to say. “Why – “ he stuttered, in loss for words, “How did you know that my room’s…?”

“I asked your landlord which one is your room. I was worried about you. I texted you 40 times. I’ve been trying to reach you for hours. Do you have a first aid kit?” Henry said as he pulled Richard to sit at the couch, closing the front door with his foot as he walked. Richard stared confusedly at the man in front of him, grateful that he had taken down his research board from the wall.

“It’s – it’s in the second shelf on the kitchen,” he said after Henry forced him to sit.

He watched as the man got first aid kit and started taking care of the scratches on his fingers. He was confused why Henry was here, why he was taking care of him. He was barely processing the fact that Cielo left. He needed more than his currently missing brain cells to process that _this_ is the first time one of his clients had stepped inside his flat. Even Sergei had never stepped inside here before, and he had been friends with the guy.

“Why were you worried about me…?”

“I had a good time. I thought I offended you or something that you didn’t reply at all – and you were so nice to me, so I figured something was up. Is that creepy?”

“Uh. No?”

“Good,” Henry smiled and kissed his hand. “What happened?” His glance darted at the fact that Richard was wearing his coat. “You’re still… wearing this. And your hands…”

“I was—“ Richard was struggling for words, urging his brain to turn, but alcohol’s making his mind fuzzy and so was the anger. He stared at the man in front of him, who was looking at him like he was so important, like he was the most important thing in the world, which he knew was bullshit, which he knew was impossible. “My ex,” he blurted out at the end, “last night my ex came by and I – “ He managed to fake a crack of his voice as he talked.

Before he could say anything more – luckily – Henry seemed like he understood what was happening and hugged him tightly at once. He did not seem like he wanted to know further what was going on. Richard knew he had to fake a cry. He forced his eyes to tears (which was easy, he was on drama club during high school to college) and started sobbing on Henry’s shoulder.

Henry stroked his back as he faked his cries, making the shoulder of the suit Henry was wearing wet. But the other didn’t seem like he minded. Slowly, Henry pulled him to lay down on the couch and kept hugging him until Richard finally stopped crying, feeling his whole face swell from the effort.

“You can’t be alone like this,” Henry muttered as Richard stopped crying. “I’ll accompany you, okay? Everything will be alright.”

If it wasn’t half true, if he wasn’t really angry about Cielo leaving, he would’ve smiled to himself in victory, as _this_ gesture from Henry felt real, like it wasn’t faked. The problem was as he felt the warmth around him, how he was pretty sure that Henry’s coat around him was the only way he kept himself sane last night, he wasn’t sure this was a game anymore to him.

“Please stay,” he muttered to Henry’s shoulder.

And if it still was, he did not want to play it anymore.


End file.
